The Hospital Story

 

 

 

  

 

http://www.fileden.com/files/2006/12/11/497251/TheSecretGarden.mp3

 

Windermere Temperatures:    -2°C/28°F Condition:   Partly Cloudy Wind:   CALM 0 KPH Relative Humidity:   91% Barometer:   29.62 Steady Reported from:   Carlisle 07/02/2007 3:20 PM GMT WED 0°C/31°F -5°C/23°F THU -1°C/30°F -4°C/24°F FRI 0°C/32°F -3°C/26°F SAT 0°C/32°F -3°C/26°F SUN 0°C/33°F -2°C/28°F

 

Its another cold one today!   Brrrrrr!

My little car is iced up solid…again!   My neighbour helped me to drive it into the sun yesterday before I went out shopping.  I had used a whole large can of de-icer on it and it still froze solid inside the car so I couldn’t drive it away until it thawed out properly. 

Our front door is North facing so we only get the sun on the street just as it is going down at the end of the day.

I haven’t got writers block…far from it!   I just need a change of mental views so I have decided to place a quick entry on here today to keep in touch with my new friends who like to come and visit.  Besides….blogging is quite addictive once you get into the habit.  I love reading everyone else’s too.  They are all so diverse in outlook.  It’s people watching from the comfort of my own home, which is what all writer’s are supposed to do as a matter of habit.   That’s the way to glean experiences of characters….so my tutor says anyway.  Personally, I have read thousands of books and lived long enough to have experienced enough diverse characters from all walks of life that can help people any story I write in the future.

 

So here I am and its Wednesday already!  I have been burrowing away here and time has flown.  Our weather is really nippy.  If my outside thermometer hadn’t gone for a ‘Wizard Of Oz’ spin in those last high winds we had recently, I could have told you what temperature it was outside.  My guess would be that it reached at least  minus 6 and more likely minus8 degrees.

We have frost hoaring up all the plants, walls and benches in the garden, as though it were snow.  Thank goodness for central heating and our log burner too for snuggly back-up.

I had an e-mail from a very dear friend this morning.  She works as receptionist telephonist at the main desk in our local hospital and this little story touched her so much she passed it on to me knowing how soft hearted I am too.

I had read it before but in a slightly different way as the person who eventually got the bed by the window ‘coveted’ the story tellers bed.  This rendition suits me better.

Enjoy!

 

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Hospital Window

A great note for all to read it will take just 37 seconds to read this and change your thinking

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room’s only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation.
Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.
The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.
The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.
As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.
One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by.
Although the other man couldn’t hear the band – he could see it in his mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with such descriptive words.
Days and weeks passed.
One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.
As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.
Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside.
He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.
It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window
The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.
She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."

Epilogue:

There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations.
Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled.
If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can’t buy.
"Today is a gift, that’s why it is called the present." 

                                   

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i’m trying,yet again above, to place an mp3 on here for you to play.  I hope it works.  If not I shall come back and delete it if I am told it doesn’t.

Have a lovely day….mine is calling me to thaw out the car as I have to nip to Grasmere today, Wordsworths village, to collect Bryan. He is out and about there with a friend and needs collecting for a diabetic clinic appointment this afternoon.

The fells today, as I look out of the front window, are burnished gold by the sun and there’s not a cloud in the sky.  I will away and thaw out this ‘ice-lollypop’ car of mine….

Take care wherever you are and stay warm and happy! 

God Bless.

Jeanie xx

 

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What Am I? Poems, Stories and Jokes

Good Morning!

Sorry not to have been around yesterday.  I had a multitude of tasks to do and one of those was the crafting of my story for my Beginner’s Writing Class at Kendal’s Brewery Arts Theatre today.

One of the tasks was to do a little writers exercise by asking ..Who Am I ? by using similes.

My little bit of a quiz input is below.   I’m sure you can do better…

What Am I?  (c) Jeanie Kirkby

 

My skin is as black as a starless night

And hard as iron.

I have two glowing eyes as red as molten lava.

I stand, legs splayed like pylons in a field.

My insides glow as radiant as a fiery summer sunset.

Sometimes, when the wind blows I exhale like a chain smoker.

And on the return breath I inhale, roaring and crackling like a forest fire.

I smell like an aroma therapist’s bag of oils full of Holly, Cherry, Oak and Pine essences.

Don’t touch me when I am awake or I will scorch you like a branding iron!

 

                                                       ********

My classwork story is unfinished which even I find frustrating as each week we are given a new task just as we are getting our teeth into the story we began before.

I lost a day this week (Wednesday) as I bumped into an old friend in the Supermarket when I went out for a loaf of bread.  We met at ten thirty in the morning, had coffee together in the cafe, I drove her home and got invited indoors and we set off blethering again until three thirty.  We reluctantly said goodbye to each other as we both knew it would be some time before we got round to catching up again. She has four granchildren now to both her daughter’s.  One of her dauhter’s has adopted two children, half brother’s, within the past three years and needs Mum’s helping hands as her youngest is just walking round the furniture now.   Those were the days.

Anyway…I digress..that’s why my story is unfinished also, as I had set out in my mind how much time I had to push myself to get it done.  Now I have been playing catch up since.   Lol!

Our other task was to archive a speciality language use which we had no previous interest or knowledg of and write the words down seperately and then place them in a box?  I will let you know why, if there is a class today.  The reason why I say that is Britain hasbeen lashed with storms throughout the night and more expected today. Our tutor lives in the Eden valley which has been getting a lot of flooding just lately.  Couple that with high winds as well as a light dusting of snow which I am looking out the window onto this morning here in the Lakes, and classes may not happen today. We will see.  I live at the top of a very steep hill and my twelve mile route to Kendal is over hilly terrain.

I hope to come back later to add to my journal but meanwhile…a bit of my story  is below.   We were given the opening line of..  ‘When it emerged from the shadows he knew the angel……’

 

 

Shadow Land?  Jeanie Kirkby (c) copywright

 

When it emerged from the shadows he knew the Angel

had come for him but he wasn’t ready to go yet!

He wanted to stop time – to retrace his steps until he was able to make the decision that would change the outcome of this moment – his last moments on earth.

Like the Angel he realised he was a seperate entity from his now broken body lying there on the road to Basra. 

He watched as his buddies ran crouched along the ditch lined with the detritus of past refugees fleeing from the city.

He could hear his menyelling and shouting on each other, checking out if the other was o.k. Then a raised voice called his name loudly and louder still when he got no reply.  He wanted to answer but already the light was becoming brighter. He instinctively knew what that meant. 

It had nothing to do with the explosion close to the Warrior armour personnel carrier he had been walking alongside moments before.  Neither was he afraid to follow the Angel into the light as it beckoned him with an alluring smile of tender affection that reminded him of his deceased parents. 

But he wasn’t ready to go…not yet! 

There were unfinished words of comfort and hope he needed to share with his wife and children.   He had never taken the chance to write those personal  comforting words in that ‘bluey’ letter to his family.  He hadn’t wanted to face up to the possibility of leaving them alone without him. That had felt to him like tempting fate. Twenty eight was too young to die. He was invincible.  He and his wife and family had their whole lives ahead of them. 

Now he begged for one last chance to tell them more thoughtfully how much he loved and cared for them. How much he wanted to stay around for them and be a part of their lives.  What he wanted to say could not be covered in a few lines of ‘You must write a letter to your family in case the unspeakable happens’.

All who wrote that letter prayed that it would never be read, him included.

It always happened to someone else, didn’t it? 

Otherwise how could you face daily sorties amongst the civilian clothed Fedayeen paramilitary fighters, who were still loyal to Saddam Hussein and determined to fight you to the death.  Men fully prepared for a martyr’s death and a willingness to sacrifice their lives for their country, beliefs, and the promise of everlasting happiness in heaven with their seventy virgins and seventy wives?

His Battle Group of armour, infantry, artillery, engineers and support units were each given a structured task specific to ousting the Fedayeen from their fragmented pockets of resistances; hiding in various safe areas throughout Basra.

His platoon, part of the Royal Irish Regiment commanded by a second Lieutenant of similar age, was securing the main link road from Basra to Baghdad. The second Lieutenant had placed him, as Corporal, in charge of a section of seven of his closest buddies, all of whom had managed to stay together through boot camp in Catterick, Yorkshire. 

They were tasked to reconnoitre a side road with houses and jetties leading upstream to Margil, the garden suburb fanning out from the forest of cranes at the wharves of the Old Basra port and the railway station; had they been able to go a little further they would be able to look across to the island that faces the Shatt El-Arab Hotel, where Basra’s airport was sited until the 1960s when it was moved to Shuaiba.

It was still hot and humid. Dusk was falling as their long day came to a close. Curfew had not yet begun as they searched and examined every nook and cranny of the twisting lanes and roads.  It wouldn’t be long before they were bivouacking and getting their tired heads down for a much needed sleep.

Their night vision glasses were futile as they tried to walk ahead unseen.. Shifting shapes loomed large then small on the mud brick walls of the houses on either side of them as the sun swung low on the horizon.

Stealth, they found, was futile as their shadows lead the way ahead and around unseen corners.  And so they rejoined their Warrior positioned on the main highway. 

The armour of the Warrior is designed to withstand an explosion from 155mm shell at 10 metres and direct fire from machine guns up to a calibre of 14.5 mm.

Not so a man.

It was difficult to recognise the enemy when they dressed the same as the citizens.  So they watched each others back by turning and watching with every counted step as though involved in a well choreographed dance.  Their senses heightened close to breaking point.  Everyone was a suspect.  Nothing could be discounted. Nothing!

Even the smiling following children could not be accepted as totally neutral. 

When it came there was no warning, despite their honed alacrity.

A group of women dressed in burka’s stood about twenty feet away, huddled up against a wall talking low.  Suddenly they revealed themselves to be Fedayeen with machine guns and hand held rocket launchers.

Tiredness, the closing of the day, stray thoughts of comfort and sleep soon to be had, had dropped his guard just this once….only once!  Fatally!

 

And soooo………End of part one…..more to follow…

 

I now have a couple of stories like that which I suppose I can follow up on one day.  Meanwhile this isn’t getting me organised to face the day.

Stay safe well and snug.  have a good day wherever you are.

 

God Bless

 

Inspirational link below…

 

http://www.inspiringthots.net/movie/dont-worry.php

 

 

Below is a poem I came across by the author Mike Subritzky (c) 2000

whilst I was archiving information for my little bit of a story.  Enjoy it….

 

Windwhistle

I never did learn his name but I know he was married, and had kids. I know this because the Padre spoke of his family, during the Memorial Service. I know he was an Australian, and by all accounts a good soldier, and a damn fine photographer. I know that because they published some of his work in ‘Reveille’. – after the Military Funeral. We brought the guns into action that morning just after first light, and then slept beneath the dappled shade of our camouflage nets. We were hidden in rocks, not far from the river, which ran swiftly over the masses of grey South Island boulders. Relaxed and rested after a week or more of intense Gunnery Training. I’d been all over the world, and the name of the place "Windwhistle" was about as forgetable to me as a hundred other places that I had sweated, slept, and soldiered through. Still, it’s funny how the hand of fate can intervene, and burn an instant of time and space into the very core of your living memory. I never did learn that Aussie Soldiers name, but I watched him die; crushed beneath the unforgiving tracks of an armoured fighting vehicle… just in front of my hidden howitzer. In slow motion I, and my gun detachment, watched in silent terror as he bent to retrieve a lense-cap, while that tank, angry and loud, turned on itself and swept him beneath the tracks; engulfing him in a sea of blood and agony, beneath those unforgiving tracks of armour plate. It seemed so very sad and futile when the young Gunner yelled to me "Sarge, shall I go and try and help him… I’ve got a shell dressing taped to my rifle butt?" "No son" I replied "Just remain at your post, and pray for hiswidow". It seemed such an odd name "Windwhistle", but I never did forget it, or the events of that day. It’s funny how fate can intervene; and brand your mind forever, with an instant of pain…and an eternity of horror. Mike Subritzky 161 Battery RNZA "Golden Fleece"

 

 

The above photo was dragged from a new programme on Yahoo called Flickr thanks to a new found friend Guido.  It works!

Below is a letter which our district nurse dropped off for us for a laugh….it will be a year ago gone January 6 when Bryan my husband had his heart attack right in the middle of my chemotherapy.  Inconsiderate man!   Lol!

I joke!   And its all behind us now thank God!

As the nurse was visiting him at home after his hospital stay he teased her mercilessly about being a mere woman etc etc. Bryan is a bit of a wag and he teases women friends as well as this nurse  about knowing their place in the world. Men are the superior race and so on…..don’t worry!   He knows different really!   Lol!

There was a good bit of laughter and banter going backwards and forwards and then she left.  Later on in the day and envelope came through the door which read as follows..

 

For the attention of Mr Kirkby!

 

Three men were sitting together bragging about how they had given their new wives duties to perform:

Terry had married a woman from Scotland, and bragged that he had told his new wife to do all the dishes and housecleaning in the house.  He said it took a couple of day but on the third day he came home to a clean house and all the dishes were cleaned and put away.

James had married a woman from Ireland and he bragged that he had given his new wife orders to do all the cleaning, dishes and the cooking.  He told them the first day he didn’t see any results, then the next day it was better and by the third day his house was clean, the dishes done and there was a huge meal on the table.

The third man said that he had married a Lancashire lass.  He boasted that the duties he had orered her to do were to keep the house cleaned, dishes washed, lawn mowed, laundry washed and hot meals on the table every day.   He said the first day he didn’t see anything, the second day he didn’t see anything, but the third day most of the swelling had gone down and he could see a little bit out of his left eye; enough to fix himself a bite to eat, load the dishwasher and call the landscaper.

Woohoo!   One up on her!

 

Well…the weather sems to have settled a bit for now here in the Lakes…

 

I have copied my entry from my AOL journal from yesterday to saveme time re-writing it everything out again.  I’ve also changed the music to my favourite Dr Hook.  I hope you enjoy it.

 

 

White tailed bumblebee poem.

 

Good Morning!

 Below is a little bit of a poem which I wrote once over, I came across it again whilst delving through my pictures and files.  I thought I would just add it here today.  Anyway…we need a bit of summer sunshine in this sepia coloured land at the moment.

I hope you enjoy it.

 

Meanwhile…

Take it easy and have a lovely day.  Its Not raining here….isn’t that wonderful?

 

 

 Photo by magicgenii.

 

Bee Patrol   copywright by magicgenii

 

 

 

Inside the tangled twisted curlicues of parasol leafed flowers

A whitetailed buzzing bumblebee whiles away the hours –

Flitting to and fro’ between the vivid orange bugles –

As if in Nature’s wondrous way she’s forgotten to be frugal

 

A multitude of tumbling flowers cascade towards the ground

In rainbow coloured abeyance, curtseying to the sound –

And touch of the humble bumblebee on sweet nectar flower patrol

Unaware it’s being watched by an amazed and ponderous soul.

 

Hosted By SparkleTags.com
 
 

 

 

Inspirational Movie thread below….

 

http://www.inspiringthots.net/movie/passing-ships.php

 

 

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                                       A Happy New Year To All!

 

I hope you all made your resolutions and are still sticking to them?  Hmm?

 

I came across a couple of poems the other day and I found them so humerous.

I hope you do too.

Here they are below.

 

 

December 26

by Kenn Nesbitt

A BB gun.

A model plane.

A basketball.

A ’lectric train.

A bicycle.

A cowboy hat.

A comic book.

A baseball bat.

A deck of cards.

A science kit.

A racing car.

A catcher’s mitt.

So that’s my list

of everything

that Santa Claus

forgot to bring.

 

Deep in Our Refrigerator

by Jack Prelutsky

Deep in our refrigerator,

there’s a special place

for food that’s been around awhile . . .

we keep it, just in case.

“It’s probably too old to eat,”

my mother likes to say.

“But I don’t think it’s old enough

for me to throw away.”

It stays there for a month or more

to ripen in the cold,

and soon we notice fuzzy clumps

of multicolored mold.

The clumps are larger every day,

we notice this as well,

but mostly what we notice

is a certain special smell.

When finally it all becomes

a nasty mass of slime,

my mother takes it out, and says,

“Apparently, it’s time.”

She dumps it in the garbage can,

though not without regret,

then fills the space with other food

that’s not so ancient yet

 

We have constant rain here in the Lakes…its like living under a waterfall.

I hope the weather is better where you are.

 

I hope to come back soon and enter some more of my own poems.  its just taking a bit of time working out where everything goes on this MSN weblog.

Take care and enjoy the rest of today.

 

The Greenwood Gate Poem

 

Good Morning!   

 

     

 

I tried to be a bit clever this morning and add some animated graphics and before I knew it I had deleted my entry instead of the graphics window I had opened.  It’s so frustrating when that happens.  You almost feel like not bothering to do it all again…but here we go once more.   Lol!

I thought that I would add a poem I wrote last year whilst laid up with nothing better to do. So I shall add it below.

Meanwhile if I am not around today it’s because like most women….I am razzing around the shops picking up last minute presents.  I also have the hairdressers at 4.30 this afternoon.  I have some gifts to deliver also so I am looking forward to a day of rest…well ….reasonable rest tomorow. I go to collect my ‘ Little Munchkin’s’ up near Carlisle on Saturday but my daughter will drive us back down again.  I hope the fog doesn’t hamper us as the forecast has it with us all weekend.

 

Here comes the poem…..enjoy!

 

 

  Picture taken magicgenii

 

The Greenwood Gate (C) magicgenii  2005

 

Step this way, and follow me;

A path leads down between those trees.

Towards a forests dank and dour

With leaf mould strewn about its floor.

 

Come, follow me through yonder door

Wherein you’ll find great views, I’m sure,

Which nature gave to you and me.

Her visions framed in every tree.

 

It’s free of charge; there are no fees

Through this green tunnel where you’ll see  

Mirrored reflections on rippled ponds?

Or magic tap of magician’s wand?

 

Come, take in views that cost no more

Than sitting here upon the floor,

Of dappled shaded greenery;

With grass and moss as your settee.

 

Windflowers dance upon the floor,

As you step through the wooden door.

This links the outside world to here,

A place for calmness no more fear.

 

Wildlife abounds within this bower.

I’m sure you’ll browse for countless hours

In contemplative solitude,

Find peace at last in this green wood.

 

You’ll find out soon in quick point rhyme

How flowers in the forest will dance in time

To every heart beat that you drum

Knowing that here…. His kingdom’s come.

 

 

 

 

Below is a thread leading to a UTube video of David Bowie and Bing Crosby singing…

Little Drummer Boy.  Don’t forget to click the icon on the right of the UTube screen to enlarge the picture for your pleasure.

Enjoy again and I hope to be back sometime later.

Have a lovely day.

 

What a glowing reference from your tutor Samantha…well done!

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i5Pu3FU7zCI

 

xx

 

 

Inspirational Story

 

Good Morning!

I wish you all a lovely day….under the fog cloud we seem to all be experiencing at present.

Below is a wonderful inspirational poem which a lovely and dear young friend sent to me in an e-mail this morning. 

I want to share it with you.

 

 

 

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You Are an Inspiration:  Don’t Ever Forget
 
Your presence is a gift to the world,
You’re unique and one of a kind.

Your life can be what you want it to be –
Take it one day at a time.
 
Count your blessings, not your troubles,
And you’ll make it through what comes along.

Within you are so many answers,
Understand, have courage, be strong.
 
Don’t put limits on yourself,
Your dreams are waiting to be realized.

Don’t leave your important decisions to chance –
Reach for your peak, your goal, and your prize.
 
Nothing wastes more energy than worrying –
The longer a problem is carried, the heavier it gets.

Don’t take things too seriously –
Live a life of serenity, not a life of regrets.
 
Remember that a little love goes a long way –
Remember that a lot goes forever.

Remember that friendship is a wise investment,
Life’s treasures are people … together.
 
Have health and hope and happiness,
Take the time to wish on a star.

And don’t ever forget for even a day…
How very special YOU are!
 
–Anonymous

 

Yet again whilst surfing the net I came across this lovely Christmas story.  It purports to be true and written in the 1960’s.  I would guess that the same kind of story is happening in various places around the world.  Other ‘silent and unheralded human angels’ helping their fellow man in times of need.

It was too lovely not to share.

 

 

 

Angels, Once in a While
  by: Author Unknown, Source Unknown

In September 1960, I woke up one morning with six hungry babies and just 75 cents in my pocket. Their father was gone. The boys ranged from three months to seven years; their sister was two.

Angels, Once in a while. Their Dad had never been much more than a presence they feared. Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway they would scramble to hide under their beds. He did manage to leave 15 dollars a week to buy groceries. Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings, but no food either. If there was a welfare system in effect in southern Indiana at that time, I certainly knew nothing about it. I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new and then put on my best homemade dress. I loaded them into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off to find a job. The seven of us went to every factory, store and restaurant in our small town. No luck. The kids stayed, crammed into the car and tried to be quiet while I tried to convince whomever would listen that I was willing to learn or do anything. I had to have a job. Still no luck. The last place we went to, just a few miles out of town, was an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that had been converted to a truck stop. It was called the Big Wheel. An old lady named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window from time to time at all those kids. She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at night until seven in the morning. She paid 65 cents an hour and I could start that night. I raced home and called the teenager down the street that baby-sat for people. I bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night. She could arrive with her pajamas on and the kids would already be asleep. This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so we made a deal. That night when the little ones and I knelt to say our prayers we all thanked God for finding Mommy a job. And so I started at the Big Wheel. When I got home in the mornings I woke the baby-sitter up and sent her home with one dollar of my tip money – fully half of what I averaged every night. As the weeks went by, heating bills added another strain to my meager wage. The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency of penny balloons and began to leak. I had to fill them with air on the way to work and again every morning before I could go home. One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home and found four tires in the back seat. New tires! There was no note, no nothing, just those beautiful brand new tires. Had angels taken up residence in Indiana? I wondered. I made a deal with the owner of the local service station. In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean up his office. I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him to do the tires. I was now working six nights instead of five and it still wasn’t enough. Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no money for toys for the kids. I found a can of red paint and started repairing and painting some old toys. Then I hid them in the basement so there would be something for Santa to deliver on Christmas morning. Clothes were a worry too. I was sewing patches on top of patches on the boys pants and soon they would be too far gone to repair. On Christmas Eve the usual customers were drinking coffee in the Big Wheel. These were the truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper named Joe. A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the Legion and were dropping nickels in the pinball machine. The regulars all just sat around and talked through the wee hours of the morning and then left to get home before the sun came up. When it was time for me to go home at seven o’clock on Christmas morning I hurried to the car. I was hoping the kids wouldn’t wake up before I managed to get home and get the presents from the basement and place them under the tree. (We had cut down a small cedar tree by the side of the road down by the dump.) It was still dark and I couldn’t see much, but there appeared to be some dark shadows in the car – or was that just a trick of the night? Something certainly looked different, but it was hard to tell what. When I reached the car I peered warily into one of the side windows. Then my jaw dropped in amazement. My old battered Chevy was full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes. I quickly opened the driver’s side door, scrambled inside and kneeled in the front facing the back seat. Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top box. Inside was a whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2-10! I looked inside another box: It was full of shirts to go with the jeans. Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes: There were candy and nuts and bananas and bags of groceries. There was an enormous ham for baking, and canned vegetables and potatoes. There was pudding and Jell-O and cookies, pie filling and flour. There was a whole bag of laundry supplies and cleaning items. And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll. As I drove back through empty streets as the sun slowly rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude. And I will never forget the joy on the fac es of my little ones that precious morning. Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago December. And they all hung out at the Big Wheel truck stop

 

Have a Happy Christmas….God Bless!

 

 

 

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Christmas Song and Seasonal Greetings

Good Morning!

 

I have added some Christmas music today for your pleasure whilst browsing. Just click on the player and you will hear.  I hope to be able to come in and change the music every other day but may leave this one for a couple of days for the moment.  Enjoy!

 

Below are some more Christmas Carol entries…something for you to copy if you wish and use to sing around the Christmas tree with your family.

 

Happy Christmas"!

 

 

 

 

Let It Snow!

Sammy Cahn, Jule Styne (c) 1945

Oh, the weather outside is frightful,
But the fire is so delightful,
And since we've no place to go,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

It doesn't show signs of stopping,
And I brought some corn for popping;
The lights are turned way down low,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

When we finally say good night,
How I'll hate going out in the storm;
But if you really hold me tight,
All the way home I'll be warm.

The fire is slowly dying,
And, my dear, we're still good-bye-ing,
But as long as you love me so.
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

Mary, Did You Know?

c. 1991 Word Music ( a division of Word, Inc.) and Rufus Music (admin. by Keeling & Company, Inc, Nashville, TN) Words: Mark Lowry Music: Buddy Greene

Mary, did you know
That your baby boy will one day walk on water?
Mary, did you know
That your baby boy will save our sons and daughters?
Did you know
That your baby boy has come to make you new?
This child that you've delivered
Will soon deliver you

Mary, did you know
That your baby boy will give sight to a blind man?
Mary, did you know
That your baby boy will calm a storm with His hand?
Did you know
That your baby boy has walked where angels trod?
And when you kiss your little baby
You've kissed the face of God

Mary, did you know?
The blind will see
The deaf will hear
And the dead will live again
The lame will leap
The dumb will speak
The praises of the Lamb

Mary, did you know
That your baby boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary, did you know
That your baby boy will one day rule the nations?
Did you know
That your baby boy is heaven's perfect Lamb?
This sleeping child you're holding
Is the Great I Am

Oh Mary did you know?

 

Warning for lady car drivers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Be aware of new car-jacking scheme.You walk across the car park, unlock
your car and get inside. Then you lock all your doors, start the engine and
shift or put into reverse.You look into the rear-view mirror to back out of
your parking space and you notice a piece of paper stuck to the middle of
the rear window.

So, you shift the gear stick back into park or neutral, unlock your doors and jump out of your car to remove that paper or whatever it is that is obstructing your view.

When you reach the back of your car… that is when the car-jackers appear out of nowhere, jump into your car and take off!!

Your engine was running, you would have left your purse in the car and they practically mow you down as they speed off in your car.

BE AWARE OF THIS NEW SCHEME THAT IS NOW BEING USED IN LONDON/MANCHESTER MAKING ITS WAY ACROSS THE COUNTRY!!!!!!!!

Just drive away and remove the paper later! It is stuck to your window and be thankful that you read this.

 

I hope you will forward this to friends and family especially to
women! A purse contains all identification, and you certainly do NOTwant
someone getting your home address. They already HAVE your keys!!!JUST BE
AWARE AND TAKE CARE IT WILL PROBABLY SOON ARRIVE IN YOUR AREA.

Brian MolloyDetective ConstableForce Intelligence BureauStrathclyde Police

0141 532 5867

 

Below is a bit of festive fun on the other end of the thread I have placed below.  Enjoy it and sing along!  I dare you!

 

http://www.mesasoftware.com/merrychristmas.htm

 

 

 

 

 

Friday 8th December

 

Good Morning!

 

Its another quick visit for me today as I have a lot to do. 

My recent story for my Beginner’s Writing Class is not a festive one.  It is in fact a horror story and I am still trying to devise a decent way into the ending for the reader, instead of the abrupt one I have at present.  It is trying to be a Roald Dahl but is no where near that yet….Lol!

But the ‘ bones ‘ of the story are there.  So for now, I’m sorry to disappoint anyone who was looking forward to reading it.  I will craft away at it until I am confident that it is saying all it can.  For now….

Below is a poem by Sybil’s village friend who lost a son this time last year to drink driving.

 

Here is an excerpt of her entry from her journal and her hopes and wishes for us all.

 

From Sybils space…

I hope that you are all keeping safe and warm.  I am going to include a poem tonight that a lady in the village has written. Her Son was killed last year by a drunk hit and run driver and she has written this poem. It has been used by the Wiltshire Police in their Christmas drive against drinking and driving. It would be good if it was read by as many people as possible so if you can pass it on it would be great.

 

Love One Another.

 

A PRICE TOO HIGH. P Reynolds.

If you’re dreaming of a Christmas that’s full of festive cheer;

Then stop and think a moment of the loved ones all hold dear;

Don’t think that you are fit to drive,that one more drink is fine;

That’s what a lot of others thought last year at Christmas time.

You say ‘It can’t happen, a careful driver me’,

But no matter what you think, my friend, It can, it does, you see.

Then lives are lost and shattered, leaving grief and tears and pain.

Only memories are left,  Life will never be the same.

So stop and think this Christmas, as you taste your festive cheer.

Don’t drink and drive this Christmastide, or even the New Year.

The price is far too high, you see, For those we hold so dear.

I shall place this on my MSN Journal too in the hope that at least one or more folks will take the hopes and wishes of this parent on board.

For now..

God Bless

Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer

Words by Robert L. May (c) 1947
Music by Johnny Marks

You know Dasher and Dancer
And Prancer and Vixen,
Comet and Cupid
And Donner and Blitzen.
But do you recall
The most famous reindeer of all?

Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer
(reindeer)
Had a very shiny nose
(like a light bulb)
And if you ever saw it
(saw it)
You would even say it glows
(like a flash light)
All of the other reindeer
(reindeer)
Used to laugh and call him names
(like Pinochio)
They never let poor Rudolph
(Rudolph)
Play in any reindeer games
(like Monopoly)

Then one foggy Christmas Eve
Santa came to say
(Ho Ho Ho)
Rudolph with your nose so bright
Won't you guide my sleigh tonight?
Then all the reindeer loved him
(loved him)
And they shouted out with glee
(yippee)
"Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer
(reindeer)
You'll go down in history!"
(like Columbus)

I was watching some UTube videos this morning all about Christmas Themes when I came across an oldy of Bing Crosby singing White Christmas.

I thought…why not?  So I am trying to provide a link to anyone who gets to read this little blog. 

 

 

Hope you have a lovely day..what’s left of it.

God Bless!